Voices of Recovery: Poetry by Survivors

I trusted you..

We were supposed to live a happy life together. Create a new one, with just us two.

You took advantage of my love and respect I gave you with open arms.
Fed me lies of us being happy together. I wanted to be yours. I wanted to live a new life with you that you promised you would give me.
I said I wanted to get closer to you, yes, but I didn’t want you to have to have to take it away from me.

I just wanted to be your special person. Not someone who you can easily walk over.

I even told you I didn’t want this, you didn’t bother to listen..

I fought silently, but now it’s time for me to be loud

That night,
he slithered into my bed like a shadow,
settling beside me while the world slept.
The air was thick, heavy,
pressing down on my chest like his hand—
silent, unseen, inescapable.

Above me, my sibling breathed easy,
dreaming in the top bunk,
while I drowned beneath him,
swallowed by the dark.
His voice, a ghost in my ear:
“Be quiet.”

I learned that silence has teeth.
That it can split you open
without spilling a single drop of blood.

Morning came too soon,
its light burning through the curtains
like it had a right to exist,
like it had the audacity to pretend
that nothing had happened.

So I put on my clothes,
buttoned my mouth shut,
and walked into school on shaking legs,
dragging the night behind me
like a secret that would never die.

Tired.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of the fight to keep this.

I'm tired of being tired.

I'm tired of pretending.

I'm tired of acting.

I'm tired of going nowhere at 100mph.

I'm tired of finding things to do and helping others in chaos to hide from my own.

The moments when I'm ok and then a flashback occurs. I'm tired of those.

I'm tired of not feeling enough.

I'm tired of questioning my sanity.

I'm tired of being the scapegoat for others' trauma.

I'm tired of trying to understand.

I'm tired of feeling empathy that I can't switch it off.

I'm tired of being intensly introspective and tearing myself apart.

I'm tired of feeling hurt.

I'm tired of the shame.

I don't want to give up..... and i wont. I just want to rest for a while.

I'm tired.

A Broken Home

Two houses, one home.
One who loves, one who makes me feel alone.
One who hugs me when I cry, one who scolds me when I shriek.
One who works hard to love me, one who only drinks and drinks.
Broken whiskey bottles and a puddle of tears holds me captive as his house gives me more fears.
Crashing or banging, a certain song or even a simple ringing causes me to spiral as my head starts spinning.
I scratch and scratch at my crawling skin, trying to make me feel happy again.
Each scratch I hide is for the ones that are eternally resting inside.
Coming from a broken home where one can know no love.
Two houses, one home.
One who cares, the other I chose to leave alone.

Alone in bed:

The nights I spend alone in bed,
With the memories I cannot forget,
The nightly thoughts that go through my head,

Why?
Why did it happen?
Was it my fault?
Was it something that i said?
Did I lead you on?
Or was it the way that I dressed?
Was it just that I am me?
Or my inebriated state?

Was it that I didn’t fight?
For I didn’t feel I could,
I wanted to scream, to fight, to flee,
But I was no longer in my body,
Instead stuck inside my mind,
Forced to watch through my eyes,
I didn’t choose,
You took,
For you knew you could.

But you knew in the way I trembled,
The response I couldn’t give,
I was stuck in inside inside my body,
A shell that didn’t work,
It’s not me who made that choice,
No choice I had to make,
But I live with the memories of all that you could take.

I try to forget,
That eventful night,
How I wish it wasn’t there,
But it is etched into my mind,
A movie always playing,
A cut too deep heal,
For a piece of me is missing,
The part of me you took,

I will never find my answers,
And no answer would suffice,
No reason could make amends,
Or fix the things you’ve done,
That part of me is gone,
Never to return,
That part of me lives with you,
In the secrets we both keep,
But this will no longer be my secret,

Instead I bear my heart,
In the truth that I no longer keep concealed,
Instead I bear my heart,
And this truth has been revealed,

I chose to live my life,
Despite what you have done,
For I have found a piece of me,
A piece I never knew,
It’s In these people that I’ve chosen,
The ones I call my friends,
These people who don’t need to ever make amends,
They showed me a love,
A love you never knew

This is not my secret now,
This secret lies with you,
It’s not my cross to bear,
A shame I have to feel,
Instead it lies with you,
With the truth you do conceal,
It’s the part of me you took,
The part you’ll always carry
It’s piece you now have to hide,
Never to be seen

I don’t owe you forgiveness,
And I don’t owe my mind,
For I’m no longer scared,
Willing to be trapped,
Instead I live my life,
The way it is intended,
Surrounded by those who care,
The people that keep me safe,
Those who hold a part a part of me,
But do not keep it hidden,
Those who show me love and receive it in return,
The people that I chose,
Those people I call friends.

What did I do?

What should I do?

Repeating in my head.

What can I do?

It’s new question in my head…

The wind likes to whisper to me

Wavering whines and whistles

Wailing wildly while I wait

Wanting to hear more

Midnight strikes against my ears

Mourning the loss of the minutes

Mulling over meaningless meetings

Rain wraps around me

Retreating into the pours of my skin

Resenting the towel that attempts to rub it away

Gravel grates it’s way into my car

Gutting my wheels

Greedy gears gently slowing me to a halt

And suddenly I’m stuck

My mind goes blank

I can’t think of any more letters to rhyme

All I can think of is that time

The time that sticks in the smallest corners of my brain

Burrowing its way deep inside

It only comes back when they do

When I feel the “warm” embrace of a hug

A handshake

Skin on skin

Scars on scars

Transfer of words unspoken

Words that would rather not be spoken

That are too feared by people who do not even know the true meaning of the words

Contact conjures feelings

Coerces that time back into existence

It slithers out of my brain like a worm in dirt when rain finally falls

Falls like the flooding that appears in my eyes

It doesn’t come out

It can’t

I won’t let it

The only time it will is when the clock strikes past 12:00

When I can hear the rain washing away the dirt

Praying that it could wash away my own

The things that haunt me in The middle of the night

Won't leave my head

Remembering the things you did

Feeling like you left me for dead

I speak in silence,
an eloquence I never asked for,
my words are heavy,
weighed down by the things unsaid.
I’ve learned the language of pain,
how it curves in the throat,
how it tightens the chest,
how it slips into the quiet,
a native tongue now fluent in my mouth.

I understand the grammar of fear,
the syntax of a trembling hand,
the punctuation of a stifled breath.
Each pause is a question,
each sigh, a statement.
I know how to translate my discomfort
into something that stays hidden,
something that doesn’t need to be heard.

But I never wanted to learn this language,
never chose the lessons that scar my skin.
No one asked me to become fluent
in the broken promises,
the unspoken threats.
But now I speak it without thinking,
understanding every nuance,
the weight of every unspoken word.

I wish I could forget the conjugation of tears,
the tense of a heart always on edge,
the way my voice trembles like a leaf
caught in a storm.
I don’t want to speak this anymore—
but it is my language,
my uninvited inheritance,
woven into the very fibers of my being.

There is nothing fair about rape and there is nothing fair when the perpetrator can carry on stalking online if a woman finally decides to write down her feelings.i feel no guilt about my honesty or the true facts of being brain washes and violently abused by the perpetrators.i dont need an audience.

Ive just been silenced for to long and after therapy i realized a life time of abuse is un healthy and the perpertrators problem not mine.

Im not good nor bad im just myself and no matter what they have done to me i will not surrender to them

But because I know it’s not my fault

It’s not my fault
It’s not my fault
It’s not my fault

He broke me
But I’m forced to care
That he’s breaking

I think he’s lying

He broke me
And I have been broken for a long time
He just broke a part of me
That was so fucking whole

My scars were finally healed
My arms were open
My smile was real

And he knew that
He knew it all along

And he raped me
And he smiled while doing it
And he smiled after
And he continues to smile

And I’m writing this poem during class
Because I can’t stop crying
And I can’t stop sleeping
And I can’t stop feeling

I haven’t been able to write yet
I’ve wanted to
But I couldn’t find the words
I told myself this was good
That I didn’t need to write
That I was just so strong
He didn’t affect me

My tears
Don’t mean he won
His smile
Doesn’t mean he won

This poem means I won.
I never lost.
I will be ok.

It wasn’t yours to take, but you took it anyway

I didnt want to give, but I couldn’t get away

And when you blamed me for what happened

I felt like it was my mistake

When you said you didnt mean to hurt me

I pretended it was okay

You said no one would hear me

That it wouldnt matter when it was done

I can only ever hope

That I was the only one

You told me I wanted it

Even when I kept saying no

You smiled like a wolf when i said you could go

How, in your head, could “if you want, we can try” sound like a yes?

At best, that was an ‘i guess’

I was a tease, i was the one who wouldn’t give in

And the very next day, you tossed me aside

Like a broken toy

You’d gotten what you wanted, those seconds of joy

I scream and I cry in the memories of the backseat of your car

This sacred moment, this monumental ‘first’

You took too soon because of your thirst

My body isn’t my own, every inch ruined by your eyes

How can i give to anyone else when you took what was mine?

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